Patty's Suitors. Wells Carolyn
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part of one, then," begged Philip; but Patty was inexorable.
And so the merry crowd dispersed, Patty lingering a moment to give Christine a good-night kiss and wish her every blessing and happiness in her new home.
"And I have you to thank for it all, Patty dear," said Christine, her blue eyes looking lovingly into Patty's own.
"Nonsense, thank your own sweet self. You well deserve the happiness that has come to you. And now good-night, dear; I'll be over some time to-morrow."
The laughing group went away, and as it had been planned, Mona took
Patty home in her car.
"I wish you'd go on home with me, Patsy," said Mona, as they rolled along toward Patty's house.
"Can't possibly do it. I've a thousand and one things to look after to-morrow morning."
"But it isn't late; really it's awfully early. And I'll send you home early to-morrow morning."
"No, I mustn't, really, Mona. I have to look after some things for the Happy Saturday Club, which it won't do to neglect. And I want to run over to Christine's to-morrow morning, too. I have some things to take to her."
"Do you know, Patty, I think they're an awfully humdrum couple."
"Who? The Hepworths? Oh, I don't think humdrum is the right word,—they're just serious-minded."
"But Mr. Hepworth is so old and prosy, and Christine seems to me just a little nonentity."
"Now, Mona, that isn't fair. Just because you are a frivolous-headed butterfly of fashion, you oughtn't to disdain people who happen to have one or two ideas in their heads."
"Well, the only ideas they have are about pictures."
"Pictures are good ideas."
"Yes, good enough, of course. But there's no fun in them."
"That's the whole trouble with the Hepworths. They haven't any fun in them. Neither of them has a sense of humour. But that's good, too; for if one had and the other hadn't, they'd be miserable for life. But as it is they don't know what they miss."
"No, they don't. Patty, don't ever marry a man without a sense of humour."
"Trust your Aunt Patty for that. But I don't propose to marry anybody."
"Of course not; he'd propose to you."
"Funny Mona! Don't let your sense of humour run away with you. Well, this facetious 'he' that you conjured up in your imagination may propose all he likes; I sha'n't accept him,—at least not for many years. I mean to have a lot of fun before I get engaged. Can you imagine me settled down in a little apartment like Christine's, devoting myself to domestic duties?"
"No; but I can fancy you married to a millionaire with two or three country houses and yachts and all sorts of things."
"Good gracious, Mona. I don't aspire to all that! Just because YOU're a millionairess, yourself, you needn't think everybody else longs for untold wealth. After I get pretty well along in years,—I think I shall marry a college professor, or a great scientist. I do love brainy men."
"Well, there are no brainy men in our set."
"Oh, Mona, what a libel! Our boys,—somehow I never can think of them as men,—are quite brainy enough for their age. And at the present day, I'd rather have fun with Ken or Roger, just talking foolishness, than to discourse with this wise professor I'm talking about. But of course, I wouldn't marry Ken or Roger even if they wanted me to, which they don't."
"Oh, yes, they do, Patty; everybody wants to marry you."
"Don't be a goose, Mona; you know perfectly well that Roger is over head and ears in love with you. Of course, I'm mortally jealous, for he was my friend first, and you stole him away from me. But I'll forgive you if you'll let up on this foolish subject and talk about something interesting."
"I will, Patty, if you'll tell me one thing. Don't you like Mr. Van
Reypen very much?"
"Phil Van Reypen? Of course I do! I adore him,—I worship the ground he walks on! I think he's the dearest, sweetest chap I ever knew!"
"Would you marry him?"
"Not on your life! Excuse my French, Mona, but you do make me tired! NOW will you be good? We're nearly home and I had a lot of things I wanted to ask you, and here you've been and went and gone and wasted all our time! Foolish girl! Here we are at my house, and I thank you, kind lady, for bringing me safely home. If you'll let your statuesque footman see me in at my own door, I'll promise to dream of you all night."
The girls exchanged affectionate good-nights, and Patty ran up the steps and Louise let her in.
"Nobody home?" asked Patty, noting the dim lights in the rooms.
"No, Miss Patty," answered Louise, "Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield are not in yet."
"Well, I'm not a bit sleepy, Louise, and I'm not going to bed now. I shall stay in the library for awhile,—perhaps until they come home."
Louise took Patty's wraps and went away, and Patty wandered around the library selecting a book to read. The girl was a light sleeper, and she often liked to read a while before retiring.
But after she had selected a book and arranged a cosy corner in a big easy-chair by a reading light, she still sat idle, with her book unopened.
"I don't feel a bit like reading," she thought to herself; "I do hate to come home from a party so early. Of course I could write some letters, but I don't feel like that, either. I feel like doing something frisky."
She jumped up and turned on more lights. Then, chancing to see herself in the long mirror, she bowed profoundly to the pretty reflected figure, saying: "Good-evening, Miss Fairfield, how well you're looking this evening. Won't you sing a little for us?"
Then she danced into the music-room, and sitting down at the piano, sang a gay little song.
Then she sang another, and then looking over some old music she came across the little song, "Beware," that she had sung over the telephone to Kit Cameron. Naturally her thoughts turned to that young man, whom she had almost forgotten, and she wondered if he had met Elise yet.
"That was quite a jolly little escapade," she said to herself; "that young man certainly thought I was a little black-eyed beauty, and when he does see Elise, of course he'll think she's the one. I believe I'll call him up and mystify him a little more. It's all right, because I've really been introduced to him, and if he doesn't remember me, I can't help it! Probably he'll be out anyway; but I'll have a try at it."
Returning to the library, Patty sat down at the telephone and called up
Mr. Cameron's number.
His own gay, cheery self answered "Hello," and Patty said in a shy little voice, "Is this you, Mr. Cameron?"
"Bless my soul! if it isn't my fair Unknown, again!"
"Why do you call me, fair, when you know I'm dark?"
"Oh, fair in this case means bewitching and lovely. It doesn't stand for tow hair and light blue eyes! and neither do I!"
"But you said you liked blondes."
"I used to, before I knew you."
"But you don't know me."
"Oh, but I do! I know you a whole heap better than lots of people who have seen you. There's something in a telephone conversation that discloses the real inner nature. It was dear of you to call me up to-night. You don't know how it pleases me!"
"Oh, I didn't do it to please you. But I'm all alone in my dungeon tower—"
"Wait a minute; what IS a dungeon tower?"
"Oh, don't quibble. Anyway, I'm all alone, and I simply had to have some one to speak to."
"How did you know I'd be here?"
"Be there! Why, I assumed that you sat at your telephone every evening, waiting to see if I would call you!"
"You little rascal! That's exactly what I have done, but I don't see how you